


Vitas Kužma and The Philosopher's Stone

by SweaterGabe



Series: Vitas Kužma and The Wizarding World [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-22 19:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10703973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweaterGabe/pseuds/SweaterGabe
Summary: Vitas, a sixth year at Hogwarts, finds himself thrown amidst a great deal of curious events when the infamous Harry Potter comes to school--That, and he is ever plagued by his semi-crush on the dishevelled Potions professor.This work takes place in 1991, during Harry's first year at Hogwarts, and will follow the original character Vitas Kužma through the events of this first year. There will be a lot of canon (particularly the main plot), but a lot of non-canon too.





	1. Chapter 1

_**September 1, 1991, 6:30PM** _

 

Brittle air whished around the legs of many a young wizard and witch as they stepped off of the Hogwart's Express and on to the platform, a storm on the rise far off in the distance. With a slight look of contempt, a sixth year student already fully clothed in house robes gazed across at the billowing grey clouds that spurred over the horizon.

It was only the voice of Rubeus Hagrid that drew away the boy's attention, and so he slowly turned his regard to the half-giant, all the while retaining the signature unintenional guise of disdain across his pale, almost porcelain, features. The man appeared to be gathering the group of first years, all of whom looked very doe-eyed and amazed at the scenery unfolding before them. He himself gave a slow glance over the crowd of eleven year olds, taking in each of their faces carefully, before stepping away from the train and heading along the Hogsmeade Station platform to where a set of stairs opened the ground in to a crossroads.

 

Carriages were already awaiting the elder students, with a cluster of Thestrals obediently awaiting the command to head for the school. His peers, if one could call them such (he certainly would not), were already pulling themselves up in to the carriages and making small-talk with one another, all very friendly. There was no such kindly luxury for this particular student, who avoided eye contact altogether, let alone confrontation.

With an air of indifference, he strode calmly over to one of the carriages closest to him, empty at that time still, and raised his hand for the Thestral. It made no move to acknowledge him, and so he lowered his arm and with no offense taken—if people didn't want to talk to him, why should an invisible winged horse—pulled himself on to the carriage with which it was connected to.

 

For a few minutes, he remained seated there alone with an empty seat beside him, before the Thestral became quite obviously bored with waiting for more students and started its well-paced canter away from the train station. It was of no surprise to the boy that he was to ride alone, as he had spent the entirety of the train ride up there in his own compartment, and was thus well used to it. Still, it did make him at least somewhat uncomfortable to see that he was the only person to be riding alone, but in knowledge that he was also the final carriage to depart for Hogwarts, he was glad that nobody would notice.

For the time being, he focused on watching the clouds that ever threatened to doom the evening to downpour. He hoped he would reach Hogwarts before the storm came.

 

* * *

 

_**September 1, 1991, 7:00PM** _

 

It was not long before most all students had arrived at Hogwarts, though looking back over the black lake one could clearly see several first year boats still straggling behind the main crowd, struggling to battle against the almost tar-like waters.

A particularly familiar female voice called out from the wide open main door, 'Mr Kužma!'

The lone boy turned slowly, parting his eyes from the lake and turning lightly on his heels to face the elegantly dressed woman calling for him. With a curt bow, a formality that never escaped him despite many a time having been told that there was no such need, he smiled blankly at her, 'Professor McGonagall.'

Stepping through the dense crowd of chattering students, he made his way swiftly towards the Gryffindor head, all the while wondering what she could possibly want with a Slytherin such as himself. Upon arriving at her feet, he straightened his posture and stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Professor McGonagall gave a curious glance at this, however quickly disregarded it as yet another of the boy's strangely formal quirks, and returned to the topic at hand; 'Mr. Kužma, I'm dreadfully sorry for the late notice, but after the Start-of-Term Feast, would you please meet in the Headmaster's office? We have an important proposal to make.'

Before he could ask what about, the Professor was off once again, her vibrant green robes fluttering in the breeze created from her sharp turn back in to the castle. With a solemn sigh of annoyance, and concern for with which what the proposal could possibly be about, he followed slowly after her steps in to the castle. Even then, at that moment, he could tell that throughout the entirety of the feast, he would be plagued with worry about what the meeting with Dumbledore could entail—nothing good, he imagined.

No time for concern, he told himself, as he straightened his black-and-green tie in an uncomfortable attempt at regaining his composure, and made for the Great Hall; of which was already bustling with great noise and movement. How he hated the Start-of-Term Feast.

 

* * *

 

_**September 1, 1991, 7:15PM** _

 

As always, he found himself seated at the front of the Slytherin table, closest to the teachers' High Table. It was an undesired place to sit, and so most students gathered towards the back where they could quite happily chatter amongst themselves without earning too much unwanted attention from teachers, who would most definitely scold them in front of the entire student body.

Vitas Kužma, on the other hand, was an undesired person to sit _next_ to, and thus consistently found himself in the seat furthermost up the table, on the very edge. It may as well have had his name etched in to it, for it was never filled by anyone but him. There was no complaining from him on this matter however, for he was actually quite content with the positioning. It allowed for him to hear the announcements far easier than if he were at the back, amongst countless amounts of ongoing conversations. That, and…

He gave a short, blank-eyed glance at the dishevelled Slytherin head of staff, and found that the man was watching him. Upon locking eyes for no more than a half of a second, Vitas immediately ripped his gaze away and returned to staring down at his empty plate. Though they no longer held eye contact, the boy could still feel the professor's eyes boring in to him—a glare well-known for its effects on lowering confidence. These effects were not lost on Vitas, who found himself under constant watch from said professor, which would have been fine—the other professors also tended to keep an eye on him—except for that he had a crush on this particular one.

 

Only when Professor McGonagall entered the Great Hall, with a number of first years trailing after her with frightened looks drawn long across their young faces, did Vitas ease up somewhat, seeing from the corner of his eyes that Professor Snape was no longer watching him. What _was_ curious, was that Snape was now watching a particular first year—a conclusion that he drew by following the man's solid, intense gaze to a young boy with dirty brown hair and well-worn round glasses. There was something strangely familiar about the boy, a feeling no doubt intensified by his curiosity as to why the Slytherin head would care about any particular first year. Every year until that point, the man had barely looked up from his food during this start of year banquet, and the sudden interest almost made Vitas annoyed.

 

After placing down a stool and the infamous Sorting Hat right in the center of the stage, most everybody in the room fell silent, eagerly awaiting the sorting process. Vitas was now intent on being as uninterested as possible, if only to appease his slight jealousy for the fact that during his own encounter with the Sorting Hat, Professor Snape had actually snarled in annoyance while still staring down at his lap. He had been just another scrawny pupil doomed to the cursed House, no particular interest from the Professor at all—and yet, this new boy had his whole attention.

Either Snape had a son he'd never told anybody about, or this messy-haired child held some great importance in another way.

 

Once the ceremony had begun, and Professor McGonagall had started calling names—beginning with one Abbot, Hannah—there was a sudden bout of cheers that continued throughout the entire thing. It was at this point that Vitas, only gazing at the group of first years from the corner of his blue-grey eyes, discovered the name of the mystery boy.

The room fell silent, and suddenly everything made sense. 'Potter, Harry,' McGonagall called, her eyes shallowing as she perused the boy with her vision, seemingly entranced with the same curiosity that Snape had supplied the child. The cheers stopped and instead a drone of chatter began to rise up; the small eleven year old, short for his age just as Vitas had been, made a wobbly clamber for the stool. People craned forward to listen to the Sorting Hat's decision, which came after some quiet deliberation between he and the dirty child. And so it was final, as the hat screamed in a low voice, ' **GRYFFINDOR.** '

Cheers again ruptured the Great Hall, and Vitas removed his gaze entirely from the front of the hall. Snape appeared to have done the same, as he was now fiddling with the cuffs of his robes. Well, that settled that, he concluded. There was no need to pursue any form of jealous investigation in to the child, as it was quite clear why the Professor, and everybody else for that matter, had been so interested. There was a new resident celebrity in the school.

 

Silently, Vitas hoped that this would mean attention would shift away from him for the coming year. It would be a pleasant change.

 

The banquet began after some brief words of nonsense from the Headmaster, whom many considered at least a little mad, and with a flick of the old man's wand a great number of plates laden with various foods apparated all across the four House tables. It was an unsurprising occurrence for those who had been attending Hogwarts for the previous years, but for first years it seemed to be all very magical; many ooh's and aah's were applauded to the feast.

While most of the meals were meat and dairy based, a large number of plates in fact just holding chicken drumsticks, the bowl of food that appeared before Vitas was entirely vegan. Some first years gave a sideways glare at the bowl, seemingly confused. No doubt he would be the only one to eat from it, he always was.

With a slight twitch of his head—a nervous habit—Vitas began to eat, as well as every other student in the room. The teachers waited until most everyone had begun munching away. They were polite like that, most of them at least. Snape, most certainly, had already begun eating and cared not for formalities. It was one of the very, _very_ few things that he did not like about the man; while Vitas was as polite and formal as one could get, the hook-nosed sullen looking Professor was exactly opposite in that regard, no concern for impressions.

 

* * *

 

_**September 1, 1991, 8:00PM** _

 

It had been a great long feast before Dumbledore once again took the stand and began to speak. 'Ahem—Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.'

'First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils,' the man gave a very short pause, 'And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.' Vitas smiled at this, though unintentionally, for he knew that as Dumbledore made eye contact with a few particular students, he would also come to do the same to him. This came true, as the Headmaster briefly acknowledged him before continuing on with the announcements. Vitas was mostly uninterested in these, as they covered things he already knew—Filch being a grumpy sod and not wanting unauthorized magic use between classes, for example.

 

The final announcement, however, piqued Vitas' attention quite dearly. It was an announcement not before given at any feast, and denoted something of great concern. 'And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.'

With furrowed brows, Vitas looked up from his lap, which until that point had proved more interesting than the announcements. There was much chatter amongst students, particularly as to whether the Headmaster was being serious or not. Judging from the man's solemn tone, something rarely applied at such feasts, Vitas could only conclude that he was, being _very_ serious.

Almost out of pure instinct, Vitas flicked his eyes to Professor Snape, no longer feeling awkward about the man's stare. It became rather translucent that whatever meeting he was to be having with the Headmaster—and no doubt a few other important figures—would revolve around this announcement. This suspicion, which had been fostered by how Vitas had consistently been involved in dangerous teacher's business by the Headmaster, was further proved correct as Snape nodded curtly at him, clearly knowing what he was thinking.

 

All awkwardness and crushes aside, Vitas was a good student of Snape's. Potions was one of his best two classes, and he often aided the man with classes for younger years. They were close enough to be constantly talked about by Gryffindor students as some sort of forbidden romance, and thus Snape's nod in his direction was evidence enough to prove Vitas' suspicions.

 

Suddenly, he realised that everybody had begun singing the school song—he did not join in, to engrossed in his own thoughts now to even care in the slightest about a silly melody. Quickly, the event was over and everybody had stood, to head for the dormitories. First years were herded by prefects, and after some time of sitting and watching everybody leave, Vitas too stood. Though, he was not headed for the Slytherin common room. He turned to face the High Table, bowed to the teachers—ever formal—and made for the exit, to await Dumbledore in his office. No doubt the man would take his sweet old time.


	2. Chapter 2

_**September 1, 1991, 8:15PM** _

 

Vitas stood at the base of the tower with which held the entrance to the Headmaster's Office, staring almost expectantly at the gargoyle that guarded the entrance. It was cooler here, in the Gargoyle Corridor, than most other parts of the school. This was likely due to the fact that it seemed the windows here were always open, and a current of draughty air constantly spilled through these.

As it were, he was uncertain as to whether or not the Professors were already up in the Headmaster's Office. He suspected that McGonagall and Snape would be, but likely not Dumbledore—he always arrived after everyone else, and often called this being "fashionably late," much to the disdain of everybody waiting on him.

 

Staring directly in to the gargoyle's cold, lifeless and inanimate eyes, Vitas opened his mouth to speak the password that very few had the privilege of knowing off-hand. 'Sherbert Lemon,' he whispered, almost inaudibly. The gargoyle most definitely heard him though, despite his mumbling, as it immediately began to turn and spiral up the tower, trailing behind it layer after layer of staircase.

Having learned from his past mistake of stepping on at this point—which had previously led to a very upset stomach—he waited until the gargoyle had stretched all the way above him, and locked in place with a gentle _click_. It was then that he began to calmly walk up the spiral stairs, his black school shoes echoing taps with each step he took.

 

It was a tall tower, and the numerous steps allowed, or perhaps more accurately _punished_ , him with more time to worry about the encounter. Students were only ever called to the Headmaster's Office for reasons regarding either misbehaviour or very, very good behaviour, and so such an event where a student be involved in the matters of school safety was almost unheard of.

His confirmation from the Potions Professor about the topic of the meeting had put him at some unease, and he briefly contemplated whether they were going to merely give him a good yelling at and warning to stay away from the third floor corridor that apparently harboured certain death—Vitas was well known for his mischievousness and lack of regard for rules, albeit only by Professors and not peers. This thought was quickly discredited though, as he knew full well that if they had wanted to do that they could have just done it during one of his classes with Snape (he was usually the one to scold the boy), and as such it was highly likely to be a more serious meeting.

 

* * *

 

_**September 1, 1991, 8:20PM** _

 

The tone for the meeting was set immediately as Vitas entered the office, the golden gargoyle disappearing back down the shaft of the tower the moment he stepped off of the final stair. As expected, only Dumbledore remained unaccounted for in the large room laden with mess. The first thing that Vitas noticed were the grim expressions laid flatly across everybody's concerned faces.

As to who "everybody" denoted, there were several Professors in attendance. Namely, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick—all of the house heads, and thus most important personnel of staff.

One other man stood in the corner, very menacingly, with his yellow-eyed cat calmly pressed against his chest. Filch made a growling noise as Vitas entered the room, but stopped when the boy turned his head and stared him directly in the eyes, an action he avoided under most circumstances.

 

'Be polite, Argus,' McGonagall warned, her voice a soothing force amongst the gloom of otherwise uncertainty that weighed down the room. Filch nodded harshly, but kept his eyes harrowed on the child he had countless times caught sneaking around after dark.

 

As Vitas began to stride with false confidence towards the platform where Dumbledore's desk stood, several steps higher than the rest of the room, the grey-haired man apparated exactly there. Without even glancing over the room, the man made a grunt of approval and spoke with a disconcerting graveness, 'Good; everybody is here.'

Turning his blue eyes, which harboured a constant expression of wiseness and yet also defeat, over to the only child in the room, he made sure to smile. Vitas could see that it was no true smile; it did not contain the same warmth that he was familiar with from the man, but he made no attempt to press this, and simply smiled in return, equally as falsely.

 

Everybody bar Filch (and Mrs. Norris by proxy) walked over to Dumbledore's desk, almost in unison. It was quiet then, and nobody spoke for some time, which made Vitas even more uncomfortable.

Professor Snape must have noticed this, as Vitas re-applied his weight back and forth on either leg several times, for he hissed, 'Stop fidgeting, Mr. Kužma.' While it held a tone of annoyance, he could hear some sympathy coming through that silvery voice, and so Vitas nodded curtly, composing himself more correctly.

After several more moments of uncomfortable silence, Dumbledore spoke up again as the organizor of the meeting, 'I welcome you, house heads, caretaker, and student, here for this important encounter.' He rolled his gaze over everybody and nodded at each person, out of both formality and kindness.

'I have asked of your presence here to talk about a very important matter,' it was during this sentence he settled his gaze solely on Vitas, who hid his unease under a mask of expressionlessness. 'This matter concerns all of you, some more than others, but all of you nonetheless.'

'I am of course referring to the Third Floor Corridor, which as you all know is out of bounds to all students—including you, Mr Kužma—due to what lies within it.'

 

Vitas mentally winced as everybody in the room applied their own concerned gaze to him, except for Snape who remained staring at nothing in particular somewhere past Dumbledore. From this sudden turn of heads, he deduced that they mustn't know for what reason he had been asked to attend this meeting, which threw him off somewhat. McGonagall must not have been lying when she said this was very last minute.

 

Their attentions were all drawn back to the greatest force in the room as he once again spoke, this time with more purpose, and aimed specifically at Vitas, 'Mr Kužma, you must feel very out of place in this room full of Professors. I am sure you are curious as to why you are here,' he smiled briefly before letting his lips fall in to something of a frown, but looser, 'You are here as we require your… _Expertise_.'

Dumbledore had chosen his final word very carefully, feeling it roll off of his tongue like ice. Vitas did not verbally reply, expecting more to follow. He was sorely disappointed as the room fell once again very silent, and he realized the expectation for speech was on him.

 

Running back slender fingers through his dirty mouse-blonde hair, Vitas unwillingly siezed the opportunity, 'I thank you for having me here, Headmaster. I am indeed curious—more so, now, as you ask of me some… _Expertise_ , as you put it.'

From this, he made very clear he had absolutely no clue as to what the Headmaster could possibly be talking about. He excelled in few areas, and was most definitely not an expert in anything other than mischief, which he doubted Dumbledore would ever require. If he ever did, Vitas thought to himself that it would be more efficient to ask the Weasley twins—they were more experts than he.

 

Dumbledore nodded several times over, humming lowly in content. 'Of course, my boy, of course. I am referring to your Elvish magic.' There was an intensity to this sentence that made Vitas unconsciously take a step back, and meanwhile cause the brows of all attending Professor's—particularly Snape's and McGonagall's—furrow. Blinking three or four times in rapid succession, clearly uncomfortable with the request, Vitas smiled one of the fakest smiles that had ever adorned his otherwise placid face.

Before he could neither accept nor decline the request, though phrased as an instruction rather than request as it were, Professor Snape spoke up, 'Perhaps it is unwise to enlist the help of a student in this matter, Headmaster.' His words were drawn out and perfectly enunciated for effect, something he was a master in doing. Vitas noticed Professors Sprout and McGonagall nodding slightly in approval of this statement. Vitas himself couldn't help but feel like agreeing—whatever was happening here should not be of issue to students, he was certain only of this.

To this, the Headmaster raised a hand in dismissal, 'It is no more unwise than having _it_ here in the first place, Severus.' Vitas was somewhat thrown aback by the acceptance from Snape at the informality of being referred to by his first name, for usually he would react rather negatively but in this instance merely huffed nonchalantly. He was almost too entirely preoccupied with this that he very nearly forgot to be curious about what such "it" that the Headmaster was referring to.

 

'There is something very important, and very dangerous, in that corridor, my boy,' Dumbledore's voice was once again intense, almost chilling. It was uncharacteristic of him, and had Vitas been less focused on the contents of his speech rather than his speech itself, he might have been more swayed. 'You needn't know what—it will only put you in more danger if you do know—but I would like to ask for your help, on behalf of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

Feeling more confident now, in the face of adversity, Vitas replied, 'I am grateful to be of service to you, in any way, sir.' This was only half truthful. He would no doubt be grateful to be of service to the Headmaster and the school, but in the manner with which he was being expected to, he was undecided on how to feel. Elvish magic was something he was not particularly fond of, despite it flowing through his veins as a powerful inheritance. But even so, as begrudgingly as it would be, Vitas would not decline any such request from Dumbledore.

 

'That is well spoken and to be well thanked, Mr Kužma,' Dumbledore pondered, 'Your service will not go unnoticed; that is why I have called the rest of you here.'

Professors Sprout and Flitwick, who at this point had begun zoning out, were drawn back in to the situation. Filch stood way behind everyone else, watching intently but otherwise boredly.

'If all of you could please keep this meeting, and any others that follow this, very secret, it would be much appreciated. But nonetheless, I should expect all of you to now treat Mr Kužma here as a peer in this matter,' Dumbledore removed his gaze from Vitas and instead perused the crowd of older participants to the meeting with a cautious eye.

 

'For now, this will be all. We shall meet again soon, to go over the details of Mr Kužma's position in all of this. Until then, please go about your schooling and teaching as normal, everybody,' his eyes were warmer now, back to their usual baby blue. The ice of the gloom had seemingly worn off and the weight was lifted from the room. 'Ah, yes, and before all of you leave—I almost forgot to apologize on Rubeus' behalf. He was… Otherwise pre-occupied, with… Fluffy, and thus could not attend.' He winked at Vitas, who furrowed his brows in confusion. It seemed to him that at some later date, this would all make sense, and this wink would then mean something. At that exact point in time though, it left the boy even more confused than as to what was lying in the Third Floor Corridor, which was really saying something—he'd thought more than once by that point about how to go about breaking in and seeing for himself. Not that he would, now that he was seemingly involved in keeping it… Forbidden.

 

Dumbledore shooed everybody, and they made their way towards the gargoyle. Professor McGonagall apparated out of the room, feeling no need to take the time to walk all the way down the stairs, but everybody else headed for the gargoyle stairwell—including Professor Snape, oddly. Everybody, especially Vitas, would have expected the greasy-haired man, known for his impatience, to take the easiest route out of the room and merely apparate.

 

* * *

 

_**September 1, 1991, 9:00PM** _

 

In a passing along the stairwell, Snape whispered to Vitas, 'Come to my classroom after breakfast.' With that, before Vitas had any chance at all to respond, he too apparated, which caught the curious attention of Professors Sprout and Flitwick, who were now no doubt wondering what the point of the man even starting down the stairs was. Sprout shook her head in obvious amusement, and Flitwick in equal annoyance. Vitas, at least, knew now why the man had not initially apparated from Dumbledore's office.

 

Vitas sighed under his breath, _'I guess I'll do that, then, since you give me little choice…_ '

Filch must have heard him muttering, as he growled loudly and obnoxiously, 'Something to say there, Kužma?'

Vitas faux smiled, purposely in matched obnoxiousness, 'Not at all, sir.' This was very well timed, as he just then stepped off of the gargoyle staircase and in to the open corridor—still freezing, mind you—and left the grumpy caretaker no time to respond before calmly but quickly striding away in the direction of the Slytherin Common Room, in the dungeons. He heard Mrs. Norris meowing angrily behind him and Professor Sprout giggling at his boldness, which she noted to herself was not dissimilar to Snape's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps it is now relevant to mention that this AU takes place in a reality where there are humanoid elves (like those from Lord of The Rings/Hobbit). This will be discussed in later chapters, but for now it is merely relevant to note that human wizards--especially purebloods--are not particularly fond of elves.


End file.
